3:00 a.m.

The smell of cinnamon vanilla Swam through the midnight room From the tiny flame Engulfed in a pool of wax I tiptoed along the chilled hardwood floor To the candle Which stood underneath The glass from behind which snow descended. The arrows on the clock Hung on 3:00 a.m. I grinned through the darkness And began to write to you Because I knew that somewhere On the other side of The world, You were awake too.

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